


Juke Box Hero

by mari681



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mari681/pseuds/mari681
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juke Box Hero - Foreigner<br/>I was listening to this song, and this popped into my head.<br/>Tony is a genius. What if that genius took him in a different direction - or, at least, in another one along-side his inventing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juke Box Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I found a fan theory to that Tony was the child of Howard and Peggy, and basically, Peggy had to leave Tony with Howard and Jarvis, for whatever reason. I like this theory. I purposefully didn’t read it all the way, so I wouldn’t have any bias when creating my own background. Not that it makes a *huge* difference. Peggy left, and Howard married a trophy wife.  
> Tony is slightly different. Not as many daddy issues - though… still has some.  
> ~~~  
> A one-shot, pre-movie, doesn't really get into any differences in the movies, no plans to continue.  
> ~~~  
> I am still working on my HP (and other) stories, but I'm trying to clean them up first.

Standing in the rain, he questioned  how he hadn’t managed to get a ticket. Yes, it was a sold-out show, but his father had promised that there would be one waiting for him.

But… Here he was, rain utterly ruining his new leather jacket, and causing his gelled hair to drip miserably into his eyes. No way to contact his father, either. The bastard had casually dropped the fact that he’d be in his lab at headquarters, and was not to be disturbed. Oh, he could try. But it was likely that the phone was already off the hook. 

It was what he would do. Like father, like son. Except in the one way that mattered. His father thought that anything  except classical music rotted the brain. His father had utter contempt for the rock music that he just adored. It wasn’t allowed to even be played in the house, nor mentioned at the supper table. But… this was supposed to be his eleventh birthday present, for getting accepted to MIT! His father would drop him off, then have the butler pick him up after the concert.

Head hung low, he turned to leave. Might as well start the long walk home. His mother would have a fit, but then wilt when his father came home. Nothing would happen, other than the bastard smirking at him. The butler might be sympathetic, but there wasn’t much else the butler could do other than sneak in some of his wives’ home baked cookies. Then he heard the roar of the crowd, and Tony couldn’t help but press his ear to the wall, hoping that he’d still be able to hear  something . And he could picture the scene. Then, like a distant scream, above the low roar of the crowd, he heard one guitar.

When the butler arrived four hours later, he found Tony, shivering and drenched, but still pressed up against the wall, stars in his eyes.

And that was all the butler heard about on the way home. The one guitar. But he also heard, under the excitement, how the young master wished for the pure  freedom of the guitar.

The next afternoon, when Tony was freed from his lessons, he found a aged and torn leather case on his bed. And he immediately knew what it was. Carefully, reverently, he unzipped the case, and took out the guitar. It was an old guitar. Beat up, and battered, but the wood was intact, and so were the strings.

~~~

The man groaned, and started to toss his arm over his eyes, when he realized there was a weight holding it down.

And he panicked. Now, it wasn’t a new thing, waking up next to someone he barely knew - but in this case, he felt like he knew the… person next to him more than he really did. After all, he had heard all the stories.

He opened his eyes, and glanced over. Yup. Shit. Blonde hair, amazing musculature, perfect masculinity. He had… well, yes, there was that utterly delicious ache. He had been fucked - and fucked  quit  soundly - by Steve Rogers. Captain America. Damn.

He heard the click of heels. Damn. Was it too late to pretend to still be asleep. Yes. It was too late. There was that utterly evil scent of lavender and freesia wafting through his open door. Oh, it was too early - and he was too drunk - to deal with this. To deal with his bloody PR manager. The devil wears Prada, indeed.

Though… At least the scion of America seemed to be a sound sleeper. Wincing slightly, he gathered the loose sheet around him, fixing the ends in a knot, and stood up to pad his way out to the kitchen.

He winced once more when he got there, but this time from the glare the red-headed woman sent him. He held up his hands placatingly. “I swear, Pepper. This won’t make the headlines.” He whispered, not wanting to push his luck.

She crossed her arms, and hissed at him. “Thats’ what you said the last time, Tony! I can still see it. ‘ Rock Star? Fuck Star. ”

At that, Tony pouted slightly. “Aw, Peps! Why can’t I be like everyone else?”

Pepper only shook her head. “Because, Tony.” She sighed. “You know why.”

He sat down gingerly, before replying, this time in a serious tone. “Yes, yes. I know. I’m the only rock star in charge of a multi-billion dollar company.”

“Yes.” Pepper agreed, handing him a steaming coffee. “And you are the only one with certain…  entanglements on their inheritance.”

At that, he scoffed. “So politically correct, Pepper.” Then he shook his head. “My father was a bastard, that nobody would deny.”

Then, Pepper relaxed suddenly, and her eyes took on a twinkle. “So, Tone. Is your newest victim anyone I know?”

Tony actually blushed at that, remembering just  who he had in his bed. He just shook his head.

“Not that reporter again? Tone, I tho…”

“God no!” he couldn’t help but burst out, thinking of the manipulative blonde. “Just… You definitely won’t have to worry about the newspapers getting wind of  this one.” Then he tried changing the subject. “Do I have time for the lab today, Peps?”

The red-head was sufficiently distracted, pulling out her Stark phone. She hummed a bit. “Two hours Tony, thats’ all. Then you have meetings with both the board of Stark Industries, and the manager of your record label. And a concert tonight, which I  hope you remembered.”

He winced at the threat in that last. “Yes, yes. I did. Thank you, Pepper.”

She glanced at him skeptically, but nodded. “Fine. I have meetings of my own. Need I evict anyone?”

“No!” Tony winced. His damn mouth again. At Peppers searching gaze, he shook his head. “No, I won’t have any trouble getting this one to leave.”

Pepper just stood up. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

As soon as she had left, Tony slumped over the counter, nursing his coffee cup. When had his life gotten so complicated? Oh, make that the day his father died, may the bastard rot in hell. Somehow the fool had a codicil written into his will that if his only son did not take up the mantle of Stark Industries, he would be arrested and tried for breaking a contract. And his fathers’ lawyers were a bloodthirsty lot. Somehow the lot of vultures had the courts convinced that the mere privilege of being born a Stark constituted a contract.

Tony shook his head, enough morbid thoughts. He debated if he wanted to brave his bedroom to grab clothes, or just hide out in his lab all morning. Then he jumped slightly, as a large, warm body leaned against his back, wrapping him in strong arms. “Hmmm… Coffee?”

So, Captain America wasn’t a morning person, after all. Something to remember. Tony managed not to pull away, but just held his cup up in offering. One of the arms around him took the cup, and he heard the gulping of coffee. Then the cup wsa placed back on the counter, and the chin returned to his shoulder. “Much better.”

Finally, Tony managed to pull himself away, and turned to face the other man. “So.”

Captain America actually blushed. And shook himself all over. “Sorry! I… don’t usually do this.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Do what? Fuck men, or steal their coffee in the morning?”

“Um. Neither. I mean…” Was the stammered reply.

“Enough.” Snapped Tony. “You can tell Fury to go fuck himself. Romanov couldn’t, a…”

The other blinked at that. “Wait… You know who I am?”

At that, Tony huffed. “Enough fooling around. Yes. You are Steve Rogers, and SHIELDs’ little pet.” The last was spat out disdainfully.

But then Tony actually looked at Steve. He had such a kicked-puppy dog look on his face, one that surely couldn’t be faked. And Tony did a double-take. “Wait. I think the thing to ask is if you know who  I  am.” Surely he did. The newspapers were still drooling over the fact that the long-lost Stark heir was a decadent, debauched, rock star.

Steve shook his head slowly. “All I know is that you are Tony Carter, and that my friend thought I’d like your music.”

Tony ran his hand through his hand, and burst out with “Then why the bloody hell did you  fuck me?”

At that, Steve blushed again. “Ah. That.”

“Yes,  that .” Hissed Tony. This was a first. Sure, Romanov had been interesting, threatening him with a  knife , of all things. But never…

“You reminded me of someone.” Steve finally answered. “When… well. I just couldn’t say no to you.”

And Tony almost gaged. Urgh. Way to be reminded of the other bit of… untidy family history that he hated to be reminded of. Did he want to tell him? No. Tony was perfectly happy. And this was entirely  too  embarrassing. 

“Get out.” Tony hissed again, voice raising. “Get out, get out, get out!” He stood up, and stalked over to the elevator. “If you aren’t gone by the time I’m back, I  will call security.”

Tony tried his hardest to ignore the dejected look on Steve Rogers’ face. And his own feelings. 

But it was all for nothing when he reached his lab. “Sir, if I may, is it possible you overreacted?”

And that oh so familiar voice was too much. He grabbed a wrench from his workbench, and hurled it at the wall. Then he took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. “Jarv, I programmed you with the family history. He was either talking about my mother, or my father. The one abandoned me, the other nearly disowned me. I don’t want to hear that I’m like either.”

“But, sir, Agent Carter was a brave woman. And she lov…”

“Don’t give me that shit either, Jarv. If she really did love me, she would have came back for me - not run away with some man.”

At that, JARVIS fell silent.

And Tony felt some guilt. After all, he  had  programmed his AI to have the same feelings that the real Jarvis had, and the same… emotional attachments. But… It was true.

~~~

By the time the allotted two hours were up, Tony was much calmer. JARVIS was even talking to him again.

Tony pulled out his own Stark Phone. Yes, and he had an extra hour to practice. Pepper was always cutting his time short. She didn’t believe that he had proper time management skills.

And so he opened his safe. And pulled out his very first guitar, the one he kept down in his lab for just this situation. It was still battered and worn - but it was the sweetest sounding, even compared to his concert guitars. And it was his first.

~~~

And that night, the night he had spent with Steve Rogers, was what kept him going after the Jericho missile demonstration. He wasn’t even supposed to be there - but Obie insisted it had to be him, the inventor, that went. To explain the details, he said. As a show of good faith, he said. And it was the memory of that one night that kept him from giving up, the nights after  the event , when he woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of when Obie betrayed him.

~~~

Tony sniffed at the blonde. “We’ve met.” He informed Fury, turning away from St… Rogers. “Your precious Captain America isn’t all you think.

And he got a slightly guilty satisfaction from seeing Rogers blanch. No, you bastard. I will not tell Fury that you fucked me. But worry about it. Worry about it all you want.

Then he smirked at Fury. “And he wasn’t any better than Romanov.” No, he wouldn’t tell. But he would drop all the hints he wanted. Then he shook his head, slightly. “Anyways!” he clapped his hands. “We  must get this show one the road, darlings. I have one tonight. An actual  show , ducklings. Not this farce of a justice league.”

And he knew by the look in Rogers’ eyes that he hadn’t  quite believed it, until that last line.

And he saw the smirk on Romanovs’ face. Oh, that  bitch . She had set them up. And was enjoying the aftermath. She would definitely get hers. Eventually. Perhaps. To tell the truth, she had scared him a bit, before everything blew up. If she insisted on wearing such  tight clothes, of course he would look… To see where she hid her knives, of course.


End file.
